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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919760">A Chalice For Your Thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birds_of_forgiveness/pseuds/Birds_of_forgiveness'>Birds_of_forgiveness</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Based primarily on the TV show, Can I collect all the AUs? I can certainly try., Comedy, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Sings, Lawyer Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Singer Jaskier | Dandelion, They might be living in NYC, but this is unclear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:40:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birds_of_forgiveness/pseuds/Birds_of_forgiveness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt collides with a mysterious blue-eyed busker along the side of the road and somehow just can't stop running into him. At least it's just the coffeeshop...right?</p><p>  <i> Geralt let his feet guide him home as his mind drifted to consider the conditions that could possibly lead to vertebrae-anus ejection. His preoccupation led him to be less conscious of his surroundings than usual.</i></p><p>  <i>“Ah cock!” Geralt slammed directly into a busker who had been playing by the side of the road, knocking the man’s instrument out of his arms. </i></p><p>  <i>The busker darted downwards to grab his lute. As the musician carefully inspected the instrument, Geralt stood around awkwardly trying to decide if he should just move along or wait for a response. When the man seemed satisfied that the instrument remained intact, he finally turned to acknowledge Geralt.</i></p><p>  <i>Oh, fuck. </i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>416</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm posting my first fic on ao3, so maybe quarantine is going worse than I thought. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s head pounded as he desperately slapped around his bedside table, trying to silence his blaring alarm clock. He knocked it off the table, still chirping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Double fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Geralt had dragged himself out of bed, turned off that damned alarm, and gotten ready for work, the sun was beginning to peak out over the horizon. The sun spilled light through the shitty kitchen window that Geralt was staring through as he absentmindedly packed Ciri’s lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the microwave clock and grimaced: His delayed start to the day meant he didn’t have enough time to stop by his favorite coffee shop, The Big Bean. The name was inexcusable but the coffee really was otherworldly. Maybe he could grab a cup at work after he dropped Ciri off at the subway station to catch the train in time for school. He knew she was pretty much old enough to walk herself. Most of her peers had been walking to the subway themselves for years but the thought of Ciri wandering around the streets of New York City all by herself had his skin crawling and a wave of anxiety shooting through his back. No, for now he’s happy to accompany Ciri five blocks east to the nearest train station before doubling back to start his commute to the office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he goes through the motions of his morning routine, his mind drifts to the various cases he has on at the moment. The robbery case he’s been working on has been tricky but he thinks, perhaps with some of Yennefer’s input, he has it locked down. Stregobor’s case on the other hand, has been far more difficult. Everyone knows he’s guilty, but nobody at the office has seemed to be able to pin anything concrete on him. Disappearing evidence, witnesses flipping testimony last minute, and shadow businesses to filter all his dirty money through has made it a nightmare to try to prosecute him. By the time Ciri is awake and bouncing with excitement to get out the door, Geralt’s thoughts have drifted to the particularly grusome murder of Stregobor’s main rival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad! Get out of your head and hurry up! I’m gonna be late!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckles and slips on his shoes. Checking his pockets for his keys and wallet, he cracks open the door for Ciri to walk through and affectionately kisses the top of her head. “You and I both know you’re nearly an hour early every day. Is there a reason you're so eager to be at school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri blushed softly as Geralt locked the door behind them. “What if I just want to be at school to learn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I would say you were lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri gasps at her father, the over exaggerated expression making Geralt smile. “Oh my god, Dad! That’s mean! You’re being very rude!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckles and, as he leads Ciri into the elevator, glances at the apartment directly across from his. The pink eviction notice was still taped to the front door. Geralt felt a twinge of sadness, even nearly eight months later he felt bad about Renfri’s eviction. He had even offered to take on her case, but they both knew there was nothing they could do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going for extra help,” Ciri said suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt lifted his eyebrow as he entered the elevator and clicked the button for the lobby level. “Oh? What subject?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> extra help, I’m just not doing super well in music right now and Mrs. Callonetta offered to give me some extra lessons to improve my grade a little. She said it’s not that I’m not trying hard enough, I’m just...” Ciri’s sheepish gaze turned to the floor as she picked at the frayed ends of her denim jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt placed his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Ciri, I’m really proud of you for reaching out and working on things you’re not naturally good at. That’s hard to do so... I’m proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri blinked up at Geralt and offered him a hesitant smile. “You’re not... mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, sweetheart. I’m happy to see you happy and there are so many things you’re amazingly talented at already. I might even get scared of you if you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> good at everything”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri snickered just as the elevator dinged and they stepped out. Ciri wrinkled her nose, “Ugh shut up, Dad. That’s so embarrassing!” At the same time a pleased blush swept across her face, betraying the fabrication of her offense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair of them set off down the street, chatting amicably between themselves. Ciri caught Geralt staring longingly at The Big Bean and teased him that if only he woke up earlier he could be there right now, nursing a cup of truly glorious coffee. Geralt lamented his loss and was just starting a particularly interesting story about the eccentric owner of the coffeeshop, Valdo Marx, when they rounded the corner and reached Ciri’s station. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, honey, you’ll get the rest of the story when I get home from work. Have a good day at school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But did Valdo find the ever racoon?” Ciri seemed desperate to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furrow in Geralt’s brow says “you’ll find out later,” but the mischievous look in his eyes said, “It's so much more complex than that”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri sighed and resigned herself to finding out later. “Bye, dad! Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too, little cub. Knock ‘em dead today”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri laughed and turned away, bounding down the stairs into the underground station. Geralt hummed softly to himself and turned to start walking back towards his office. He slipped in his earbuds and dug through his pocket to find his phone. Pulling up a podcast someone in the office had recommended, he pressed play and settled into a comfortable walking pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve all heard the expression ‘shit or get off the pot.’ What if there was a third option? Hi, welcome to a really weird podcast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grimaced and clicked pause. Silence was nice too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There is one character note for Jaskier’s character and it is Disaster Bi.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fine, maybe it <em> was </em> a shitty apartment. </p><p>Jaskier stood on the threshold of his brand new apartment, holding a box of his most valued possession: his beautiful, custom embossed, historically accurate lute, six vinyl records religiously maintained, a copy of <em> The Complete Stories of Franz Kafka</em>, a coffee mug that read “Bisexual Rights Means I’m a Coffee <em> and </em> Tea Person,” and a fresh buttercup he had spotted and plucked on his way in. His <em> most valued </em> possessions. The rest of his belongings were in Priscilla’s Prius, a distant eleven stories down. </p><p>Jaskier stared at the tiny space he now called his own. Okay so <em> maybe </em> the paint was peeling so bad you could scarcely make out the original color, and <em>maybe</em> there was a suspicious looking stain on the ceiling that just screamed water damage, and <em>maybe</em> there was an alarming lack of furniture which had been promised in the lease, but none of that mattered to Jaskier because it was his, well and truly his. His signature on the contract said so. </p><p>The sound of jangling keys behind him alerted Jaskier to the fact his moment of existential revelry was over. He swung backwards, nearly smashing the box against the doorway, and eagerly looked for the source of the noise. </p><p>As Jaskier carefully put down the box, he greeted who he assumed to be his neighbor before he even lifted his head. </p><p>“Hello! I—” Abruptly, he stopped and blinked. A little girl with bright blond hair was at the door directly across from his. She had her keys halfway through the lock when she froze and turned towards Jaskier. </p><p>“Shit, sorry. I mean, fuck, I shouldn’t curse, shit sorry, ah!” Jaskier composed himself, “Hello! I just moved in. Whose lovely acquaintance am I making?”</p><p>
  <em> Shit, she definitely thinks you’re a creepy weirdo. Backtrack, what do kids like? Fuck, no! Now you’re thinking like a creep too, ah fuck.  </em>
</p><p>“My dad says not to talk to strangers and if a stranger tries to talk to me I should kick him in the balls and scream for help.”</p><p>Jaskier winced. “Your dad is absolutely right.” </p><p>She raises an unimpressed eyebrow and draws in a deep breath as if about to scream.</p><p>Jaskier quickly thrusts his hands up, gesturing at her to stop. “Wait! Fuck, please don’t scream, I swear I’m not a creepy weirdo.”</p><p>The girl closes her mouth but looks assessingly at Jaskier. He tries his best to look innocuous. In his foppish oversized college t-shirt and ratty sweatpants, he thinks he’d look harmless to any individual in the world, except maybe little girls, fuck.</p><p>“My dad also says not to curse.”</p><p>“Your father seems like a very smart man.”</p><p>She snorts. “He might want you to think he is but deep down he is just as dumb as the rest of us.”</p><p>Jaskier nods, knowingly, as if he’s ever met this man in his life, as if he’s not currently meeting his daughter for the first time outside each of their respective apartments...alone. Fuck, he should leave. </p><p>“Well I am charmed to meet you…”</p><p>“Ciri.”</p><p>“Ciri! But I must be on my way. Please do listen to your father’s advice in the future,” He gestures helplessly back at his apartment. “Um, bye now”</p><p>Jaskier hastily entered his apartment and slammed the door behind him, letting his head slum against the shut door. Ciri stared at the door for a moment before shrugging and stepping into her own apartment. She wondered what Geralt would think of their strange new neighbor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Was this entire fic a vessel for writing Tired Dad Geralt? Maybe so.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt’s bones were going to fall out. He was sure of it. His spine was going to slide out of his ass and it would confound even the leading medical experts. He’d be on hospital pamphlets and waiting room magazines for years. </p><p>Fuck, even his thoughts weren’t making any sense. Enough for every single one of his cases to triple in complexity, now his hypothetical death scenario involved light medicinal reading. </p><p>Geralt let his feet guide him home as his mind drifted to consider the conditions that could possibly lead to vertebrae-anus ejection. His preoccupation led him to be less conscious of his surroundings than usual.</p><p>“Ah cock!” Geralt slammed directly into a busker who had been playing by the side of the road, knocking the man’s instrument out of his arms. </p><p>“Shit, sorry,” Geralt grunted as he reached for the guitar the man had dropped. The busker beat him to it, darting downwards to grab the guitar which Geralt now noticed was very strangely shaped. As the musician carefully inspected the instrument, Geralt stood around awkwardly trying to decide if he should just move along or wait for a response. When the man seemed satisfied that the stringed instrument remained intact, he finally turned to acknowledge Geralt.</p><p>Oh, <em> fuck</em>. The busker had windswept brown hair, smooth skin, and a strong jaw which didn’t draw away from the general <em> prettiness </em> of his face. He wore a bright blue button down shirt with a quirky pineapple pattern and tight maroon jeans which displayed his slender figure well. But the first thing Geralt noticed was his startlingly bright blue eyes, attentive and sparking. They seemed to draw him in and take his breath away.</p><p>“Um, you’re standing on my sheet music.” The man spoke with a charming Geordie accent.</p><p>Geralt snapped out of the half trance he had fallen into. “Fuck, sorry.”</p><p>“You said that already,” The man seemed amused as he watched Geralt clumsily step off of the fluttering sheets and bend down to collect them. </p><p><em> Damn, he has long legs</em>, thought Geralt as he straightened up to pass the papers back. </p><p>The man smiled widely as he took the papers from Geralt. <em> And a very pretty smile, </em> Geralt thought absently. Their hands brushed briefly and Geralt blushed. Christ, what was he, twelve? This was embarrassing.</p><p>“Cheers, love. Consider yourself forgiven for all transgressions,” He winked. Geralt blushed harder. The man hooked the strap of his mysterious music-making vessel over his head and turned away from Geralt as he began to strum. Seemingly dismissed, Geralt continued to walk home, thoughts of his work pushed aside in favor of the pretty blue-eyed busker.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It’s all <i> oh you’re projecting your desire for a loving fatherly relationship </i> and <i> oh you’re projecting your bisexual desire for hot people in suits</i>. I know. I am but a simple creature. I cannot change this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Priscilla, I’m in love.”</p><p>“Hello, Jaskier. You're not in love. You just saw a hot woman that you want to step on you and you’ve confused it with love,” She paused, “again.”</p><p>“Slander! And that's not it, Pris. I swear it's different this time. I had this, like, feeling.”</p><p>“In your dick.” Even over the phone, Priscilla didn’t miss a beat.</p><p>“No! In my heart,” Jaskier sighed dramatically, “Do you think we’re soulmates?”</p><p>“Jaskier, you’re my best friend,” </p><p>Jaskier nods enthusiastically even though he knows she can’t see him over the phone. She knows that he nodded, even though she also can’t see him over the phone.</p><p>“And even so, I do not have time for your shit. I’ve got parent conferences coming in ten minutes. Either jerk off or watch The Notebook again, one of those will cure you.”</p><p>“Pris,” Jaskier whines, “I can’t believe I’ve stumbled across the love of my life, the guiding light of my soul, a modern Romeo and Juliet,”</p><p>“They both die.”</p><p>“A modern Bonnie and Clyde.”</p><p>“They die too.”</p><p>“A modern Beyonce and Jay Z.”</p><p>“<em>They are modern!</em>”</p><p>“Goddamn it Pris, I’m in love! Doesn’t that mean anything?”</p><p>“With you? Not really,” Her tone softens, “I’m sorry Jaskier, I really do have to go. I’ll talk to you later okay? You can rant about his eyes to me.”</p><p>“Oh they are the most gorgeous otherworldly golden hue like the—”</p><p>“Goodbye, Jask.”</p><p>“Bye, Pris! Terrify a couple of mean parents for me.”</p><p>Jaskier hears Priscilla’s laughter filter through the phone before it’s cut off by the ending of the call. Jaskier sighs and flops back onto his bed, glancing at the analog clock he got from a local thrift store. <em> Shit</em>, Jaskier thinks, <em> he should really make dinner and try to sleep early if he wants to be up in time for his morning shift. Why he thought 6:00am to 2:00pm was an ideal time to work baffles him to this day.  </em></p><p>Humming to himself, Jaskier bustles around his small apartment, tidying up here and there as he makes his way to the tiny corner he affectionately calls the kitchen. His apartment is coming together quite nicely. After Priscilla helped him move all of his admittedly limited belongings he blew the last of his reserve cash on some shitty furniture and one decorative pillow to turn his <em> house </em> into a <em> home</em>. Add to that a single trip to the thrift store armed with only his busking earnings and you have the full extent of Jaskier’s home decor. </p><p>As Jaskier put on some water to boil for mac and cheese, he let himself daydream about the mysterious man who had crashed into his life today. To be perfectly honest at first he had only been worried about the condition of his precious lute. But, as soon as he confirmed his baby was safe, his mind rewinded back to the collision that had just occurred and the frankly deliciously solid mass of muscle that had been briefly pressed up against Jaskier. </p><p>Jaskier sighed loudly to himself. The mystery man had been pretty to look at from a distance as he walked towards Jaskier, but up close he was <em> stunning</em>. He had a strong jawline, symmetrical features, just enough stubble to be sexy, gorgeous silvery white hair half tied back, and that goddamn <em> suit</em>. Call Jaskier shallow if you want but men in suits were <em> hot</em>. Women, too. Ugh, suits were hot. </p><p>His gruff voice was just <em> sinful, </em> and he was so adorable and flustered as he gathered up all of Jaskier’s papers. Jaskier could have easily done that himself but having the man do it for him was surprisingly kind. <em> Mmm, husband material</em>, Jaskier thought nonsensically. </p><p>The incessant bubbling of the pot signaled Jaskier that the water was ready. He threw in some pasta and noted the time. He lost himself in passing daydreams about falling in love, getting married, and starting a family. Priscilla may think this was simply a passing fancy but Jaskier was determined to get to know this mysterious someone. Jaskier was in a new city and about to pursue a new life, it couldn’t hurt to spark a new love too. </p><p><em> Right, you have no name, no number, and no information on this guy. What are you going to do? Wish really hard for your fairy godmother to get your prince to come sweep you off your feet? </em> Jaskier’s pragmatic, and usually quickly silenced side, thought. </p><p><em> That's very rude</em>, thought the rest of Jaskier who, on habit, quickly silenced his realistic doubts and plunged headfirst into fanciful delusions. <em> I’ll just have to go busking again and hope I run into him. </em></p><p>Decision made, Jaskier quickly finished his dinner and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of strong arms and piercing golden eyes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Christ!! I have left many a comment in my day but rarely on unfinished fics. I absolutely did not realize the rush of inspiration and motivation that comes from people commenting mid fic! This is a glorious revelation, and I shall endeavor to change my ways.</p><p>tldr: thanks for the very kind comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Geralt was hopelessly lost in a beautiful pair of clear blue eyes that were gloriously close to him. He tipped his head forward and briefly brushed his lips against—</em>
</p><p>A loud blaring sound suddenly rang out. <em>Holy shit, Geralt was going to destroy that goddamn alarm clock.</em> Geralt grumbled as he rubbed his eyes and got ready for the day, making a significant effort to get ready with enough time to stop by The Big Bean. He packed Ciri’s lunch, leaving a little “Love you, little cub” note for her to find at lunch.</p><p>Having successfully dropped Ciri off at the station with a quick kiss on the forehead and well wishes for her day, Geralt turned and began walking promptly towards The Big Bean. As he pushed open the front door he was greeted with the delightful scent of roasting coffee beans and vanilla. </p><p>Geralt sighed to himself. The Big Bean offered him a little slice of heaven in the morning, a moment of peace in his busy day. As Geralt queued to order, he let himself soak in the atmosphere of the shop: the soft clicking of keyboards, the quiet chatter, the shuffling of papers and coffee cups, the cheerful hum of the barista. <em> Oh, that’s new. </em> There wasn’t usually humming or the soft singing the barista had transitioned into. </p><p>Geralt reached the front counter and waited for the barista to come take his order. Triss, the barista that typically had the shift when Geralt arrives, didn’t seem to be in today. Instead, Geralt saw the back of a young man with relatively short brown hair, shorter than Geralt’s by far although that isn’t exactly hard to achieve, wearing a bright pink shirt under his apron and black skinny jeans that draw Geralt’s eyes to the man’s ass. Geralt guiltily pulled his gaze back up. </p><p>The barista turned with dramatic flourish and began talking right away. His singsong voice was scarcely distinguishable from his earlier singing. “Hi! Welcome to The Big Bean. May I take your order?”</p><p>As soon as Geralt made eye contact with the barista, his order slipped from his mind. From the startled look in the barista’s eyes, he seemed to have recognized Geralt as well. The man recovered from his shock far faster than Geralt, quickly slipping in to an easy smile and leaning in towards Geralt slightly. </p><p>Geralt felt himself unconsciously lean forward and cursed at himself internally, steeling his spine and reining back in his thoughts. <em> Damn, what was it about this man that made him lose his head?  </em></p><p>“Fancy meeting you here! Are you following me, you scamp?”</p><p>“What? No, I...” Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, “Hmm, medium black coffee, extra cream, no sugar.”</p><p>“Hey, if you’re missing something sweet in your life, I’m right here.” The barista waggled his eyebrows in what he seemed to think was a charming manner, but it looked entirely ridiculous. Geralt was charmed.</p><p>The man Geralt had spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about hummed under his breath as he rang up his order. When he looked back up at Geralt, a bright smile gracing his pretty face, Geralt caught himself smiling back. </p><p>“Would you like your order brought to your table?”</p><p>Geralt nodded and passed over the money due, listening to the man begin to sing softly as he bustled around behind the counter preparing Geralt’s drink.</p><p>“So you sing?” Geralt said abruptly. He cringed. <em> Very smooth, Geralt. He definitely doesn’t think you're a stalker now.  </em></p><p>If Geralt had misstepped, the man didn’t show it. If anything, he brightened up further. His voice took on a chipper tone as he said, “Yup! Usually I’m busking when I can, but it just doesn’t pay the bills ya’know? And working here’s not bad, even if the hours suck,” the man grinned as he briefly turned back to Geralt, “and the company’s pretty good too.” He winked. </p><p>Geralt grunted. He tried to make it a pleasant <em> I like you too </em> grunt but he wasn’t sure if he was successful. </p><p>The man continued, unperturbed, “You don’t have to wait here, you can grab a table to wait. Don’t worry, I’ll bring your coffee over.”</p><p>Geralt, of course, knew this having frequented this coffee shop semi-religiously for nearly a decade, but he was still tempted to hang around the counter and chat with the barista a bit more. Dismissing it as maybe a step too creepy, Geralt turned away from the counter in search of a nice, out-of-the-way table to settle in for a few minutes. </p><p>He found an alcove tucked into the back of the cafe and set his briefcase down next to him. It wasn’t his regular spot, but it was distant enough from the hustle and bustle of the quick in-and-out ordering crowd that he didn’t mind too much. Plus from here he had a fairly direct view of the counter. Not that it factored into his decision much. </p><p>Geralt was about to give in and open his briefcase when the barista swept in and gingerly placed on the table a saucer with his coffee cup and a spoon balanced delicately on it. A napkin was half tucked under the cup. </p><p>“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood. I almost couldn’t find you, tucked away back here!”</p><p>Geralt lifted his gaze to the man, mouth quirking upward slightly, “And we can’t have that, can we?” Geralt responded dryly.</p><p>“Was that sarcasm I detected? Oh, hush! I’ll have you know you ought to be honored to partake in that drink you are about to imbibe! It’s practically liquid ambrosia but infused with caffeine. What could be better?”</p><p>Geralt smiled. “Blessed silence.”</p><p>“Oh, <em> very </em> funny,” They both paused for a beat, the barista pouting sarcastically and Geralt smirking. The man seemed to realize himself as he sighed dramatically. It seemed everything he did was done dramatically. “As much as I’d love to stand here and soak up your <em> cheery </em> presence, I do have to get back to work.”</p><p>“Best not to keep you then.” Geralt locked eyes with the man again and he almost seemed to falter slightly. </p><p>“Right, yeah, of course.” He stumbled over a table as he began to turn away from Geralt. A rather fetch blush blossomed across his face. “Until next time then!”</p><p>Geralt lifted his cup in a sort of half toast and took a sip. <em> Damn, that was good coffee. </em> The man successfully made his way back behind the counter and slid past the other barista to take the next customer’s order. </p><p>It was only when Geralt dropped his gaze back down to the table that he realized the napkin that had been tucked under the coffee cup had fallen unfolded when he had lifted the cup. He spotted writing scrawled across the napkin. Geralt put down his cup and lifted the napkin to read it. In sloppy cursive handwriting, which Geralt considered far too endearing for his own sake, read a phone number with the local area code and the name <em> Jaskier </em> followed by a messily drawn heart. </p><p>Geralt furrowed his eyebrows. <em> Had the cute barista—Jaskier—left his number? For...Geralt? </em>Geralt looked up at the counter again and immediately made eye contact with the man. Jaskier looked sheepish and shrugged, hurrying to serve another customer. Geralt smiled into his next sip and tried to ignore the warm feeling in his chest, blaming it entirely on the hot coffee and not the flirty looks Jaskier sent him every time he glanced up at the counter. It was embarrassingly often.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I realize I’m beginning to use Priscilla fairly often as a character. Unfortunately, as I hold no knowledge of her canonical nature, she is essentially an OC. Enjoy more phone convos! Also we are canonically in NYC now! This has no effect on the story :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier could not believe his luck. <em> Pining one day and in touch the next, </em> he thought triumphantly. Jaskier’s gorgeous mystery man had waltzed into his life once again, only this time armed with dry wit and an intense gaze. Jaskier was pleased to note that the man had seemed to remember him and actively asked about his singing. Oh, yes, Jaskier could see this love blossoming into a beautiful and wondrous thing already. </p><p>Jaskier was currently spread across his tiny couch, exhausted from his first day as a barista. As much as he loved interacting with people, standing for so long and preparing complex drinks took a lot more effort than he had expected. Jaskier wanted to get up and maybe eat some food or work on music, but he honestly felt too tired to move. </p><p>He absentmindedly wished he had gotten the mystery man’s phone number so he could at least pester him until he paid attention to him. Maybe not the best strategy, Jaskier will admit, but he was in <em> love. </em> He couldn’t stand this inaction!</p><p>Jaskier felt his phone buzz from his pocket and hastily fished it out, clicking accept as soon as he saw it was an incoming call from Priscilla. </p><p>“Oh Priscilla, my love grows ever larger every day.”</p><p>“Gross! You nicknamed your penis <em> love</em>?”</p><p>Jaskier snorted. “Careful, the kids might hear.”</p><p>“Eh, it’s aftercare. They’re all too hopped up on juice boxes and animal crackers to worry about what boring old me is talking about.”</p><p>“Aw, Pris, give yourself some credit. After all, I am your topic of conversation, so it must be interesting.”</p><p>“Jaskier, I swear your ego just gets bigger and bigger.”</p><p>“Now who’s making up nicknames.”</p><p>Priscilla let out a hearty laugh, making Jaskier smile into the receiver. </p><p>“Your wit never ceases to amaze me, but—”</p><p>“Is that another nickname,” Jaskier cut in.</p><p>“But,” Priscilla continued, more insistently, “I need to ask your help with something.”</p><p>“Oh, anything, my dear! My service is yours to call upon.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. Don’t think I don’t appreciate that greatly. I have one student, a fifth grader. She’s been having some trouble with her music class. She’s been coming in for extra help, but I don’t seem to be getting through to her that well.” Priscilla sighs. “I wish I had enough time to dedicate to her—she really deserves it, but with 25 other kids in the classroom…”</p><p>“Yes, of course, I understand. What do you want me to do?”</p><p>“Well, I was wondering if you’d be willing to give her private lessons? Nothing too complex, I really don’t think she’s intending to major in music or anything. But I think her struggle with the class is really making her doubt herself, and you know how I hate to see kids feel discouraged so young.”</p><p>“I would be happy to help her out. But, erm, how much time do you think I should set aside for this?”</p><p>“Oh! If you’re worried about money, don’t be. I know the girl’s father; he’s some hot shot lawyer who will do anything for his daughter. I’m sure he’d be more than willing to pay you for your time.”</p><p>Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief. “You must know that as happy as I am to do this for you—”</p><p>“Yes, Jaskier, of course I understand. You’re in a new city and working towards your dream. You need to support yourself.”</p><p>“Thanks, really. You’re a good friend.”</p><p>“Damn right I am. Anyway, it’s about time for me to start cleaning up snack time. I’ll text you when I figure out a time slot for the lesson. Stay safe, try not to break too many hearts out there!”</p><p>“Pris, you wound me. A miserable farewell from me.”</p><p>“Oh, just hang up already.”</p><p>“No, <em> you </em> hang up first.”</p><p>Priscilla immediately ended the call. </p><p>Jaskier huffed lightheartedly and poked around his phone notifications. Hmm, still no texts. Well since he was on his phone already he might as well fire off a quick tweet to keep his loyal followers updated on his recent life developments!</p><p>Energized from his conversation with Priscilla, Jaskier got up from the couch and wandered around the kitchen in search of some snacks. He settled for a bag of pretzels he had purchased from a street cart earlier. His first day working such a long shift really had taken it out of him, so he certainly did not feel like cooking. He glanced at his phone again. Still no text. </p><p><em> Well, the man’s probably got work </em>, Jaskier reasoned. </p><p><em> And no lunch break? No smoking break? No bathroom break? He could have texted Jaskier at any point today. He’s probably just not that interested. </em>Jaskier’s insecurities spat.</p><p><em> But he looked at Jaskier! Like, a lot! </em> His hopelessly romantic side volleyed back</p><p><em> Oh? He looked in the direction he was facing? He committed the bare essentials of human interaction? He didn’t bend around backwards to avoid eye contact? Face it, he’s not texting</em>, Jaskier thought mockingly. </p><p>Jaskier caved and picked up his phone again. Still no message. He groaned and puttered uselessly around in the kitchen some more before gathering resolve. Jaskier decided to be more productive and use this time to make some more music, prove he really was the musician he came to New York City to be. </p><p>Jaskier wandered into his bedroom and picked up his trusty lute and the leather-bound notebook where he kept his lyrical ideas and blank music sheets. He tried picking up one of his older songs that had been in the works but just wasn’t feeling it. Frustrated, he flipped to a fresh page and started composing a new song. </p><p>Chords and melodies started to flow together, but he just couldn’t quite grasp the right lyrics to click with the rest of the song. He started mumbling out loud whatever came to mind as he strummed. He let his mind drift as it pleased. He often found that his best songs came when he wasn’t thinking too deeply about writing, but just letting himself feel the music and allowing the words to come to him. His imagination floats to thoughts of the mysterious man who had slipped into his life twice now.</p><p><em> I hope one day you’ll realize<br/></em> <em> I’ve found my world within your eyes </em></p><p><em> Oh, that’s a bit pretty. </em> Jaskier jotted down some notes and leaned back, letting memories and daydreams alike of intense golden eyes wash over him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This might be the longest chapter thus far because I just<i> needed</i> to reach Jaskier’s tweets<br/>ft. certified morosexual geralt and bisexual disaster jaskier part 2: electric boogaloo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To text or not to text. That is the question. Geralt stared at his phone intently.</p><p>“Stare any harder and I fear that phone might burst into flames.” Yennefer’s smug tone broke Geralt’s concentration.</p><p>“You would know.”</p><p>“Hey, I might have a resting bitch face, but you’re the one right now trying to silently interrogate your lock screen.”</p><p>Geralt grunted. </p><p>“What’s got you so entranced anyway? Stregobor case giving you more trouble?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Two questions and one answer. How very in character of you.”</p><p>Geralt flicked his gaze away from his phone to glare at Yennefer.</p><p>“Oh! He’s unbewitched,” Yennefer drawls out sarcastically.</p><p>“Don’t you have work to do?”</p><p>“Oh, plenty, but antagonizing you is so much more fun. Aren’t you going to tell me what’s on that phone that’s got you so entranced?”</p><p>Geralt hesitates, trying to decide if it's worth the trouble, “I’m trying to decide if I should text someone.”</p><p>Yennefer’s eyes flare in interest. Geralt immediately regrets his decision. “The famous Geralt Rivia? Actively <em> seeking </em> human contact? Someone alert the press, I worry we’ve got a doppelgänger on our hands.”</p><p>Geralt groans, “Leave off, Yen. Forget I said anything.”</p><p>Yennefer lets out a breezy laugh that Geralt is far too smart to consider harmless. “Not a chance, Geralt. I am going to wring this information out of you one way or another.”</p><p>Geralt sighed heavily. “Why can’t you direct this sort of energy towards your cases?”</p><p>“I do. That’s why I’m the best prosecutor in this office.”</p><p>Geralt snorted. “Humble, too.”</p><p>“Well, at least I’m not the one hiding an imaginary girlfriend.”</p><p>“Boyfriend,” Geralt corrected reflexively. </p><p>Yennefer grinned widely, “I see.”</p><p>Geralt cringed. He had let out more information than he had intended and what was he <em> doing </em> saying things like ‘boyfriend’ out loud? He’d seen Jaskier only twice, and he certainly wasn’t the type to catch feelings quickly. Maybe being alone for so long was messing with his head. Ever since he had gotten Ciri, he simply didn’t have the time to go out and date. Not to mention most people weren’t in the market for workaholic white-haired single dads. </p><p>Intent on pushing Jaskier out of his mind and focusing on his work, Geralt resolutely put his phone away, pulled out the newest police report on one of Stregobor’s victims, and got down to reading. </p><p>The hours flew past as quickly as they ever did, and eventually Geralt found himself glancing at the office clock which fortunately read <em> 6:00pm</em>, the end of his work day. Geralt packed up his things, organized his desk, and threw out the coffee cups that he had accumulated throughout the day. Not one of them had been as good as the cup he had enjoyed that morning at The Big Bean. </p><p>After a quick commute home, Geralt trudged into the elevator, eager to see Ciri, eat a warm dinner, and pass out in bed watching nature documentaries. When the elevator stopped at his floor and he stepped out, Geralt noticed the eviction notice that had been taped to the neighboring apartment was gone. Geralt idly wondered how long it had been gone for before he had noticed and if the new tenants had moved in yet. </p><p>Geralt moved past the other apartment and unlocked the door to his home, entering as he called out gruffly, “Ciri? I’m home.”</p><p>She came running to the front door from her room and leapt eagerly into his arms. Geralt laughed openly and picked her up, twirling her around. When she was a bit younger she would have shrieked in delight when he did that, but now she just laughed and demanded to be put down. Geralt obliged her. </p><p>“How was your day, princess?” Geralt asked as he puttered into the kitchen to find a takeaway menu. </p><p>“It was really good! Mrs. Callonetta said she was going to try to get someone to give me music lessons! She said she was going to ask one of her friends who is an actual real life <em> musician</em>!” Ciri’s eyes sparkled in awe. </p><p>Geralt chuckled, “That sounds fun. Did you learn anything today?” </p><p>Ciri groaned. She sounded adorably like her father. “It’s <em> school</em>, dad. Of course I learned <em> something</em>. Lots and lots of somethings in fact!” She frowned. “Mostly boring somethings though.”</p><p>“Mm, sometimes boring somethings are important.”</p><p>“I <em> know! </em> But I really enjoyed gym today! I beat all the other kids at tennis. Even the <em> boys</em>.”</p><p>“Very good. I’m impressed.”</p><p>Ciri lifted her chin a bit, pleased. “Did <em> you </em> do anything fun today? Did you get to stop by The Big Bean this morning?”</p><p>Geralt nodded, “I did, with time to sit down and drink my coffee too.”</p><p>Geralt picked up the phone to call a local pizza shop. As he called in their usual order, Ciri grabbed plates from the cabinet and grabbed some napkins for the table. The pair of them didn’t always have dinner at the table, but when they did they tried to cobble together some assemblance of a normal family dinner. </p><p>When Geralt finished the call he sat down and looked at the screen left open on his phone. It was Jaskier’s name typed into the send bar—Geralt had saved his number as a contact before even leaving the coffee shop—and an empty message window. </p><p>Geralt hardly noticed Ciri peering over his shoulder until he flinched when, right next to his ear, she asked loudly, “Who’s Jaskier?”</p><p>“No one!” As Ciri narrowed her eyes at Geralt, he faltered quickly. “Someone I met at The Big Bean this morning.”</p><p>Ciri’s eyes lit up immediately. “What do you mean <em> someone </em> you <em> met</em>? Is it an <em> important </em> person?” She squinted at Gerant and lowered her voice, “Is it like <em> Yennefer</em>?”</p><p>Geralt refused to blush, blood vessels be damned. So maybe he had had <em> one </em> fling after adopting Ciri, but that was years ago now and didn’t count! It was <em> Yennefer </em> for god sakes. “Calm down, Cirilla. I don’t know! I’ve barely spoken to him!”</p><p>“Him?”</p><p>“Yes…?” Geralt said hesitantly. He was suddenly realizing he never had this particular conversation with Ciri. To be fair, it really hadn’t come up before.</p><p>Ciri placed her arm on Geralt’s shoulder as she had seen adults do during serious conversations. “It makes no difference to me, Dad, if you love a guy or a girl. I just want to see you happy.”</p><p>Geralt tried not to let it make him feel better. It did anyway. “I am happy, sweetheart. I have you. That’s all I need in this world.”</p><p>Ciri softened. “I know, but I think maybe you could be a little <em> more </em> happy if you had, like, another adult around.”</p><p>Just as Geralt leaned in to hug Ciri, the doorbell chimed signalling the arrival of their dinner. Geralt got up and walked over to the door, grabbing his wallet along the way. </p><p>After tipping the young driver a few bucks for his trouble, Geralt grabbed the pizza boxes with one hand and swung the door shut with the other. Carefully locking it and walking back into the dining room. </p><p>Ciri was sitting at the table, peering intently at her phone, clicking and scrolling rapidly. Geralt had fought her at every step of the way from getting that phone, but in the end she won when she insisted she needed it to contact him if anything happened on her way to or from school. Geralt had only acquiesced with the conditions that she not overuse it and that she give it up to him at night. Thus far, he hadn’t had any issues with her, but he’d heard horror stories of <em> the teen years</em>. </p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>“I think I found his twitter? This Jaskier guy?” Ciri peered down at her screen. “Maybe you should read it.”</p><p>Geralt hastily walked over and grabbed the phone out of Ciri’s outstretched hand, reading Jaskier’s most recent tweet.</p><p>
  <em> “Is it illegal to be hard at work because you served a black coffee with cream to a drop dead gorgeous mystery man who you know from personal experience is well muscled but shy in a cute way? Asking for a friend.” </em>
</p><p>Geralt squints. Maybe it’s not about him. He kept scrolling.</p><p>
  <em> “Google, please stop showing me sex ads. I know there are desperate sluts in my area, I have a mirror.” </em>
</p><p><em> “The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a spotify playlist to express my feelings” </em>followed by a link to a Sad Thot Hours playlist.</p><p>
  <em> “My kink is when people care about my feelings and what I have to say.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s my god given bisexual right to be dramatic.” </em>
</p><p>This Jaskier guy sounded like a disaster. Geralt’s heart beat faster.</p><p>Pulling his eyes away from the endearing trainwreck of tweets, Geralt tilted his head at Ciri. “Why were you on twitter anyway?”</p><p>“I don’t have an account! I just googled Jaskier’s name and his music info and twitter popped up! It doesn’t even have a picture!”</p><p>Ciri was right: Jaskier’s profile picture was a dramatically lit photograph of his instrument, which Geralt was sure at this point was not a guitar but had no guesses past that. </p><p>Ciri had no trouble plopping down on the seat next to Geralt and digging right in. Geralt scrolled down further a bit, spotted a picture of Jaskier at what looked like a college party with his shirt unbuttoned so far it was practically hanging off and a goofy grin that made Geralt want to smile back at the screen. Geralt quickly closed the tab and returned the phone to Ciri. </p><p>“Stay off social media for a few more years, okay? You’re too young for all that nonsense.”</p><p>“Yeah, dad, I know. You’ve said it a million times before. Have some pizza before its cold and <em> don’t </em> think you’re getting out of finishing Valdo’s racoon story!”</p><p>“Right! Where was I? So Valdo thought he had finally discovered the racoon, right? <em> Well…</em>” </p><p>The pair happily finished the remainder of their meal as Geralt recounted his valiant tale, all the while trying not to let his thoughts drift to the name and empty message box waiting for him on his phone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>did i spend an hour at 4am scrolling tumblr looking for incorrect quotes to use for this section. Yes. Do I regret it? Guess I'll find out when I have to wake up.</p><p>Update: yup, regret it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fun note for this chapter: i wrote this while in an online lecture and holy shit do i not understand Differential Gene Expression Analysis, but i Sure am familiar with coffee shop banter now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier lamented what ghastly, eldritch sins he had committed in a past life to deserve this. What corrupt and depraved acts tarnished his soul so irrevocably that he was doomed to face hellish punishment thereafter. His foul and fiendish alarm lay screeching beside his arm which was sprawled out across his bedspread like spilled wine over a marbled floor. </p><p>Jaskier was a <em> little </em> proud of the fact he could still be so dramatic at <em> 5:00am </em> in the <em> morning</em>. This was a time meant for the birds and the birds <em> alone</em>. No mortal man ought to be awake at such an hour.</p><p>Grumbling to himself, Jaskier threw aside his covers and struggled through his morning routine. He grabbed his phone and made his way over to his bathroom, eyes barely open. He lazily picked up his toothbrush and stared bleary eyed into his reflection.</p><p>Half asleep, Jaskier turned on his phone and squinted. The harsh white light of the screen blinded him and made his eyes snap reflexively shut. Cursing the world and all his brethren, Jaskier pried his eyes back open and peered at the screen. He was surprised to see he had seven new messages. He looked at the preview on his lockscreen, mind still sluggish with the remnants of sleep.</p><p><em> Hello. <br/></em> <em> This is Geralt.  </em></p><p>Jaskier furrowed his brow. <em> Geralt? He didn’t know any Geralts? Not even any Geralds or Gerards. How did someone get his number? </em>Jaskier clicked open his messages app to see all of the unopened texts. </p><p><em> Hello. <br/></em> <em> This is Geralt. <br/></em> <em> From the coffee shop.<br/></em> <em> And the street. <br/></em> <em> I ran into you a few days ago.<br/></em> <em> Hello.<br/></em> <em> Sorry, I sent that already. </em></p><p><em> Ohoho! </em> Jaskier woke up considerably, wringing the last of his sleep out of his eyes and looking back at the messages. <em> Oh, he is adorable! </em> thought Jaskier, delighted as he reread the messages. </p><p><em> He remembered Jaskier! And the street collision! He texted him!!! </em>Jaskier’s heart leaped and twirled with pure unbridled glee. </p><p>Jaskier quickly raced through his morning routine, humming loudly and bursting into song at will. </p><p><em> What should he text back? </em> Jaskier wondered idly. “<em>hello!!!!!!!! 😍💕💖💞😘😊💝💘</em>” seemed a bit excessive, if honest. He could just say <em> hi </em> back, but what if Geralt—Jaskier’s heart fluttered at that. A name! A name to match the lovely face he couldn’t stop thinking about—took that as a conversation ender and never texted him back ever again?! Jaskier couldn’t have that! </p><p>Jaskier anxiously fiddled with his phone, typing into the open message box to Geralt.  </p><p>
  <em> hello! surprised to see you’re so chatty over text! </em>
</p><p>Jaskier squinted at his phone. Was it… too excited? He edited his text slightly. </p><p>
  <em> Hello. Surprised to see you’re so chatty over text. </em>
</p><p><em> Oh, no! </em>Jaskier wasn’t a heartless bastard! He changed it back.</p><p>
  <em> hello! surprised to see you’re so chatty over text! </em>
</p><p>Jaskier closed his eyes, cringed, and hit send. He peaked one eye open and sighed. He had missed the send button. Jaskier clicked send and watched his message shoot off into the ether. </p><p><em> Right! Good. Perfect, nothing to do now but wait. </em> </p><p>
  <em> Wait.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Waiting… </em>
</p><p>Yeah, Jaskier doesn’t really go in for that. He began typing again.</p><p><em> hello! glad to see you’re so chatty over text!<br/></em> <em> not that i didn’t enjoy the whole taciturn mystery man vibe you had going on!<br/></em> <em> very convincing, very scary!<br/></em> <em> then again you aren’t really that scary, actually pretty adorable </em><br/><em>in a gruff, i can and might kill you, kinda way</em></p><p>Jaskier paused, tilted his head, and shrugged. <em> Yeah, this was normal enough. </em></p><p>Jaskier glanced at the clock and shuttered. <em> Fuck, I gotta go or I am definitely going to be late. </em> </p><p>He hurried through the rest of his morning routine and raced out the door, heading towards The Big Bean. </p><p>After a brisk walk, Jaskier burst through the side door of The Big Bean, clocking in and sighing a breath of relief at the noted time of <em> 5:58am </em>. As he passed through the backroom, he waved at Valdo who just scowled at him. Jaskier flipped him off when he turned around. He reached the front counter and started preparing the shop for the morning rush. Jaskier busied himself placing the pastries that had been baked that morning in the display case, wiping down the counters and equipment, and setting up the espresso machine.</p><p>As soon as he flipped the open sign and unlocked the front door, customers started flooding in. Jaskier slipped into the comfortable bustle of serving the morning crowd. He was finally starting to grow familiar with the unrelenting activity as he flit from customer to customer, preparing drinks and chatting idly with the patrons. At <em> 7:00am </em> the second barista, Triss, showed up for her shift, easing Jaskier’s workload and giving him a moment to breathe between customers. </p><p>After one particularly rude customer, Jaskier huffed angrily to himself, spending a bit more time than necessary heating up a croissant. With his back turned to the register, he didn’t notice the next customer in line until: “Are you usually so endeared by potential murderers?”</p><p>Jaskier tilted his head, confused for a moment before he remembered the texts he had fired off that morning. Jaskier whipped around. “Geralt!” He immediately spotted Geralt standing a bit awkwardly behind the register and grinned. “How nice of you to swing by! Hope you didn’t miss me too dearly.”</p><p>Geralt chuckled, “Right, I’m definitely here for your unrelenting chatter and not for the heavenly coffee you serve.”</p><p>“I am recognizing that as a joke, <em>superbly offended by the way</em>, but regardless, as a show of my inestimable generosity, I could take my break right now. If you wouldn’t mind sharing your time, I could join you in your brooding corner of silence?”</p><p>Geralt hesitated, and Jaskier felt like his heart was going to explode. After a beat, Geralt nodded.</p><p>“Alright! Triss, love, I’m going to be taking my break after this cup. Is that alright?” A quick nod from where she was bent over the workstation to his right confirmed her agreement. Jaskier turned back to Geralt. “Medium black coffee, extra cream, no sugar, right?”</p><p>Geralt nodded again and paid, turning away in search of a quiet, private spot. Jaskier began to hum lightly to himself as he prepared Geralt’s drink and nabbed a chocolate almond croissant for himself on his way over to Geralt’s table. </p><p>Jaskier set down the cup in front of Geralt. “Why am I not surprised to find you in the most secluded corner of this entire shop?”</p><p>“You must be smarter than you look.”</p><p>Jaskier laughed and sat down across from Geralt. “You wound me, truly.”</p><p>Jaskier took a bite of his croissant and Geralt sipped his coffee. Jaskier wracked his mind for something to say. Words had never failed him before, but he kept getting distracted by the light shining into Geralt’s stunning golden eyes or by a lonely strand of stark white hair failing delicately into his face or by the stretch of his <em> sinful </em> suit over his sturdy frame. </p><p>Geralt, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence. “You never answered my question.”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Is there something about potential murderers that seems to you to be…” Geralt’s eyes flick to his phone, then return to Jaskier’s face, “adorable?”</p><p>Jaskier melts just a bit. “Maybe not on principle, but I could be persuaded to make an exception.” The eased atmosphere and release of tension seemed to be enough to set Jaskier off. He shot off questions and answers alike, excited to get to know more about Geralt who seemed to maybe even like Jaskier. <em> What a thought! </em></p><p>Geralt seemed happy enough to just lean back and steadily sip his piping hot coffee, interjecting when needed or providing his own answers when they conflicted with Jaskier’s, but generally he just let Jaskier speak. Once he even asked a question of his own.</p><p>“Do you prefer coffee or tea?”</p><p>Jaskier smiled slightly and Geralt got the distinct impression that he was laughing at some joke Geralt had failed to pick up on. “Both. But that’s basically blasphemy working at a <em> coffee </em> shop, so I’d have to say coffee right now. What about you?” </p><p>Geralt silently lifted his half empty coffee cup. Jaskier nodded. “Ah, of course.”</p><p>Jaskier delved straight back into his discussion of how he was finding New York City as Geralt nodded occasionally and offered a few of his own suggestions as a long-time resident of the city.</p><p>The minutes passed comfortably.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which yennefer is an unbothered problematic queen and i apparently exclusively write chapters where geralt or jaskier just speak to women who are Tired Of Their Bullshit. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt wasn’t sure if he had ever smiled that much in one sitting. He truly had no idea if this guy liked him or not. What he did know was his favorite color—yellow, his opinion of red bicycles—bad, his opinion of food truck churros—good, and his coffee-tea preference—both, not at the same time. </p><p>They continued chatting—well, Jaskier chattering incessantly as Geralt listened contently—until Jaskier’s break ran out and Geralt <em> really </em> needed to get to work or Vesemir would be having some <em> words </em> about professionalism and respect. They parted ways amicably with an agreement to meet at the same time tomorrow, and Geralt felt his heart lift at the prospect of seeing Jaskier again. </p><p>Geralt seemed almost giddy the whole rest of the work day, enough to have Yennefer suspicious when he smiled not only once, but <em> twice </em> at his phone over the course of only four hours. Yennefer had never seen him like this about anyone except Ciri for whom they both had a very special place in their hearts for. Geralt only seemed to soften around her and on rare occasions Yennefer, but even that had to be coaxed out of him. Whomever Geralt was talking to better turn out to be good for him or else Yennefer would have some serious balls to crush.</p><p>Speaking of threats: “Geralt, if you don’t tell me about who you’re texting this instant, I am going to vaporize all your case files.”</p><p>Geralt continued to focus on his phone. “Mhm.”</p><p>“And I’m going to tell Vesemir you’re quitting to join an Alaskan bobsled team.”</p><p>Geralt hadn’t even turned to her. “Mm, sounds good.” He got a notification and <em> smiled</em>, eyes scrunching up like he was terribly endeared by something on the screen. <em> Three smiles </em> in the span of scarcely four hours? Yennefer was going to be sick; that was disgustingly saccharine. </p><p>Yennefer, as any committed professional would, took matters into her own hands. Quite literally in fact. She walked over to Geralt’s desk and snatched the phone right out of his hands. Geralt yelped, which he would never admit to under any circumstance, and lunged towards Yennefer to grab his phone back, but she darted back to her desk too swiftly, heels be damned.</p><p>“Yennefer! You’re acting like a child.”</p><p>“Perhaps. But you started it.” She was tempted to stick her tongue out at him but refrained. </p><p>Geralt narrowed his eyes and glared at her. She lifted his phone to her face and began to snoop, absolutely unbothered. Geralt’s phone was open to the messages app, which he notoriously avoided under all circumstances regularly. The only person permitted to text him was Ciri to confirm she got home safe everyday. Everyone else was to call Geralt and leave a message. He resented having to type out messages of any length due to his propensity to misclick the tiny keys. <em> Such a dad, </em> thought Yennefer, not without her own dash of affection.</p><p>There was, however, a new message window that was not one of Geralt's three friends. It was at the top of his messages. <em> Jaskier? </em> A strange name no doubt. Yennefer discretely memorized the number. She clicked the name and eagerly scrolled to the top of their exchange. <em> Geralt had texted first? Surprising. </em> She read on.</p><p><em> Hello. <br/></em> <em> This is Geralt. <br/></em> <em> From the coffee shop.<br/></em> <em> And the street. <br/></em> <em> I ran into you a few days ago.<br/></em> <em> Hello.<br/></em> <em> Sorry, I sent that already. </em></p><p><em> hello! surprised to see you’re so chatty over text!<br/></em> <em> not that i didn’t enjoy the whole taciturn mystery man vibe you had going on!<br/></em> <em> very convincing, very scary!<br/></em> <em> then again you aren’t really that scary, actually pretty adorable <br/></em> <em> in a gruff, i can and might kill you, kinda way </em></p><p>
  <em> Was Triss too angry that you overstayed your break? </em>
</p><p><em> nope!!! she deemed my 20 minute break a temporary lapse in judgement and was fully assured that it won't happen again <br/></em> <em> i think it was my spellbinding irresistible charm that convinced her<br/></em> <em> but the extra fluffy bagel i saved for her may have influenced her decision  </em></p><p>
  <em> They are very good bagels. </em>
</p><p><em> they are indeed superb and delightful treats!<br/></em> <em> maybe I could get you one tomorrow? if you’d like? </em></p><p>
  <em> I wouldn't mind. </em>
</p><p><em> great!! :DD<br/></em> <em>ah! i’ve got to go! triss is threatening me with bodily harm again! she hasn’t reached castration yet though so she can’t be too upset</em></p><p>
  <em> Better go. We wouldn’t want her to carry out that threat.  </em>
</p><p>Yennefer stared at the phone, wide eyed. <em> Was—was Geralt flirting? </em> It was a horrendous attempt and Yennefer cringed every step of the way, but it really seemed like Geralt was trying to <em> flirt</em>. She looked back up at him. Geralt was fidgeting anxiously from his desk, knowing better than to try to steal his phone back but desperate to see if Jaskier had replied. </p><p>“Am I going to have to threaten to crush his balls?”</p><p>“Yen!”</p><p>“Alright!” She handed him back his phone, noting carefully the way he eagerly clutched it back and searched straight away for any new messages, deflating a bit when there were none. </p><p>“Geralt, I realize you might like this guy.” Geralt growled and Yennefer rolled her eyes. He was as emotionally constipated as the best of them. “But I think you should be careful. You barely know him, and you seem to have let him into your life fairly quickly. Does he even know about Ciri?”</p><p>Yennefer was surprised to see that Geralt could deflate further. He had sunk into his chair, looking as defeated as she had ever seen him.</p><p>“No.” He hesitated. “Not yet.”</p><p>She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “So you’re planning to?”</p><p>“Yes—no. Maybe? Fuck, Yen, I don’t know.”</p><p>She softened a bit and leaned over, resting her hand on his arm. “I just want what’s best for you. I don't want you—or Ciri—to get hurt, okay?”</p><p>Geralt nodded, and she retreated back to her desk. That was enough emotional vulnerability for today. Yennefer concluded primly, “It would do you some good to get laid though. You’re so uptight; maybe he can dislodge the stick you got shoved up there.”</p><p>Geralt groaned. Yennefer grinned.<em> Perfect, balanced restored.  </em></p><p>Yennefer was surprised to hear Geralt speak up again. He was breaking all sorts of records today.</p><p>“You get off at six today, right?</p><p>Yennefer nodded.</p><p>Geralt grimised a bit. “You know I hate to ask but… I’m working late today and Ciri has this music thing at her school at seven. Could you walk with her?”</p><p>Yennefer feigned consideration. They both knew she loved Ciri dearly and would do nearly anything for her. “I suppose I could swing by. Seven, you said?”</p><p>“Yeah. You can pick her up from my apartment. You still remember the address?”</p><p>“Yes, Geralt. I’m not amnesic. It’s only been a few months since I last dropped by.”</p><p>“Yes and,” Geralt hesitated, “this is her first lesson so could you meet the music teacher for me? Ciri’s teacher recommended him and she seems over the moon about being taught by an '<em>actual musician</em>.' She hasn’t stopped talking about it, but, um. I trust you. Could you make sure he’s…”</p><p>“Honestly, Geralt, the things I do for you. Yes, I’ll check him out and make sure he’s good enough for little Cirilla.”<br/><br/>Geralt nodded and returned to work. Well, checked his phone, huffed, then got back to work. Yennefer just rolled her eyes and sighed. <em> Men. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Could I have named Ciri’s School? Certainly. Did I? Absolutely not. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier groaned as he passed through his front door, slamming it behind him and falling straight onto his couch. As delightful as his day had started out, the never-ending stream of pushy customers and finicky equipment was exhausting. <em> Damn Valdo’s cheap ass for never repairing anything! </em></p><p>Jaskier slumped further into his couch, letting the weathered leather seats envelop him. He dug through his pocket and pulled out his phone, checking his only new message.</p><p>
  <em> Better go. We wouldn’t want her to carry out that threat.  </em>
</p><p>Wait. Was that <em> flirtatious</em>? Did Geralt not want him castrated for <em> selfish </em> reasons or like the normal <em> aversion to injury </em> reasons. As Jaskier pondered this and planned his <em> supremely cunning </em> reply, another message filtered in. Jaskier reluctantly clicked it and jerked out of his comfortable seated position. The message was a reminder from Priscilla that his first lesson with the fifth grader was tonight. Jaskier grumbled to himself. <em> He should probably learn her name</em>.</p><p>Jaskier scanned the information Priscilla had texted him: <em> 7:00pm </em> tonight, at the local school, dress semi-casual, the parents would probably want to meet him for the first lesson, but after that they’d just drop the student off at school. </p><p>Ugh, Jaskier did not want to go after the day he had, but a promise is a promise and ninety bucks is ninety bucks. </p><p>Jaskier hauled himself off the couch and wandered into his bedroom, eyeing his messy closet for options. <em> Flamboyant patterned button up, 80s bomber jacket, puffy silk shirt, semi-slutty crop top, doublet from the renaissance faire forever ago, old Oxford sweatshirt, and, oh! Perfect: a plain light blue button up. </em></p><p>Grabbing a pair of well fitting tan slacks, Jaskier tugged on his outfit and looked in the mirror. <em> He looked… presentable</em>, he guessed. <em> Not fun at all. Maybe just a little… </em></p><p>Jaskier unbuttoned his shirt a bit and slipped on a couple rings on each hand. He returned to the mirror. </p><p><em> Ah, much better. That feels right. </em> </p><p>Jaskier glanced at his bedside clock. He had some time to kill before he had to catch the subway, so he decided to start planning out some of the lesson. He had originally considered winging the entire thing but eventually caved and asked Priscilla for some direction. She told him that her student wanted to learn piano. Since the school had a grand piano in the music room, Jaskier would be holding the lesson there. </p><p>Jaskier pulled out his notebook and started listing the basic warm ups and scales that he would go over first, maybe diving into basic sheet music if there was time. By the time he was satisfied with his rough outline of the lesson, he looked up at the clock and <em> fuck, he was definitely going to be late.  </em></p><p>Jaskier grabbed his keys and jacket, raced out the door, and hastily locked it behind him. He threw himself into the elevator, slammed the lobby level button, and reached for his phone. <em> Shit! It definitely wasn’t in his pocket. </em> Jaskier groaned as he realized he had left it charging on his bedside table. </p><p>Jaskier anxiously crossed and uncrossed his arms, watching the elevator tick down each floor like it was swimming through molasses. An eon passed before the elevator door finally opened and Jaskier flung his body out, racing to the station.</p><p>By the time he reached the school, he was running almost five minutes late. Thankfully he had caught the subway almost as soon as he reached the station so he wasn’t <em> even </em> later. He breezed past the front desk, flashing his driver’s licence, and dashed towards the music room. He had visited Priscilla enough to remember its location. </p><p>He reached the door and paused for a moment, quickly fixing his hair and straightening his shirt. He did up one button. He unbuttoned it. <em> Ah, fuck it. </em>Jaskier opened the door and walked in.</p><p>Sitting at the piano was who he assumed to be his new student because the only other person present was a beautiful woman with wavy raven hair, striking purple eyes, a very low cut dress, heels so sharp Jaskier was sure they could be murder weapons, and a glare to rival Geralt’s.</p><p>
  <em> Well, here goes nothing. </em>
</p><p>Jaskier smiled widely and stuck out his hand. “Julian Pankratz, charmed to meet you.”</p><p>The woman looked as if she might pull a muscle trying to look as unimpressed as possible, but somehow Jaskier doubted something as pedestrian as a pulled muscle would stop her. She seemed the type to critique an active EMT on their method of resuscitation. </p><p>The woman’s voice dripped with tired condescension. “You’re late.”</p><p>Jaskier dropped his outstretched hand. “That I am, and I apologize profusely for my transgression. Let me tell you: the subway tonight was just <em> absolutely… </em>”</p><p>“I don’t care.” </p><p>Jaskier froze. “Yes, of course.” He turned to the girl. <em> Fuck, he really should have asked for her name. </em> Thankfully, she jumped up from where she was sitting and walked straight towards Jaskier. She paused for a moment and tilted her head at him, her brow furrowed. Abruptly, she shrugged and stuck out her hand. </p><p>“My name is Cirilla Rivia. You may call me Ciri.” </p><p><em> Aw, this kid was adorable</em>. Jaskier brightened up considerably and folded himself over into an elaborate bow. He straightened up and shook her hand. “Ciri, delighted to make your acquaintance!” She giggled a bit before quickly restraining herself, nodding, and returning to sit at the piano. </p><p><em> Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall where he may have met her. Eh, New York’s big; maybe he ran into her around the city and just didn’t remember. </em>Jaskier dismissed the thought. </p><p>Jaskier turned back to the woman—probably Ciri’s mother? They didn’t look very alike, but that didn’t mean much in this modern world—and offered her a sheepish smile. </p><p>He considered offering to exchange numbers in case he needed to reach out about Ciri. But he remembered he had left his phone at home and she definitely didn’t want his number and he was rubbish at remembering long digits, so Jaskier gave up altogether. </p><p>“I’ll probably start the lesson now, so…”</p><p>The woman’s acerbic tone did not soften at all. “I’ll stay to observe.”</p><p><em> Christ, she was almost as taciturn as Geralt. </em> Jaskier chided himself, <em> he should probably stop thinking about Geralt right now. </em></p><p>The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment before adding, “Her father couldn't make it today, but he sent me to make sure everything was in order.”</p><p>The way she was assessing Jaskier made him think Mr. Rivia definitely sent her for more than that. She looked like she was about to tear him to shreds. </p><p>Jaskier forced a casual shrug. “Alright, sounds good to me.” He walked over to the piano and sat down next to Ciri.</p><p>He addressed her directly, “The first thing you need to know about playing piano is which key represents which note. Did you ever learn any scales?”</p><p>Ciri looked uncomfortable and squirmed on the piano bench. She spoke softly, “No.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled warmly, “Perfect! Then I get the honor of teaching you!”</p><p>Ciri’s discomfort seemed to melt away bit by bit as Jaskier was nothing but comforting and reassuring. He constantly paused whenever it seemed like Ciri was struggling or confused, and he praised her every success. Ciri was a remarkably bright student—and witty, too. She had the sort of dry humor which was so ill fitting for a child, making it <em> that </em> much funnier. </p><p>Jaskier made a habit of alternating more difficult exercises with silly stories about performing at cafes and bars. It was a liberal mix of fact and fiction, but Ciri seemed to catch on early that Jaskier wasn’t really relaying the truth as much as <em> storytelling</em>. She seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. </p><p>Jaskier was having such a genuinely fun time teaching Ciri that, by the time he remembered to look up and check for the woman’s opinion of him, she was already gone.</p><p>Jaskier let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. <em> She was terrifying. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry this took so long!! I hope you enjoy it :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier had a lock of hair dangling in front of his eyes and Geralt was using every bit of his personal restraint to stop himself from reaching out and fixing it. The idea of running his hands through Jaskier’s soft brown hair was equal parts tantalizing and terrifying.</p><p>“...so then I thought that she seemed the type of woman to critique an active EMT on their method of resuscitation! What do you think?”</p><p>Geralt froze. He had caught exactly <em> none </em> of what Jaskier had been saying. “Hmm,” he replied, trying to sound far more certain than he felt.</p><p>“Oh no, that was a <em> please don’t notice I’ve been completely ignoring you for the past ten minutes </em> hmm not the <em> oh Jaskier, you’re so witty and insightful </em> hmm that I was looking for.”</p><p>Geralt silently cursed Jaskier’s infallible ability to distinguish his hums. </p><p>“Could you, maybe… repeat the question?” Geralt asked tentatively.</p><p>Jaskier beamed and began recounting his story at once. Geralt struggled to ignore how Jaskier’s eyes seemed to light up when he was excited or how he seemed to subconsciously lean into Geralt.</p><p>Jaskier caught his eye and stopped speaking to give Geralt a soft smile. “Oh, you’re hopeless.”</p><p>Geralt just raised an eyebrow and continued to stare at Jaskier, letting his head tilt affectionately.</p><p>“I’m hopelessly something alright.” Geralt continued just softly smiling at Jaskier until his brain finished its mantra of<em> Jaskier’s pretty and I like his voice and his hair looks so soft </em>and caught up with the words he had just said. </p><p>Jaskier looked a bit startled but immensely pleased as Geralt rushed to clarify.</p><p>“I mean, I’m hopelessly… dumb? I’m just… so <em> incredibly </em> stupid.” Jaskier grabbed his hand and just held it. Geralt let out an unconscious breath. “Yeah, hopelessly stupid.”</p><p>Jaskier just laughed and squeezed his hand. “Yup, I got that, Geralt. What a pair of hopeless idiots that makes us.”</p><p>Geralt grinned at Jaskier. He opened his mouth to tell Jaskier how Ciri often called told him that “as smart as he tries to seem, he’s just as dumb as everyone else,” but abruptly shut his mouth. Geralt’s happy mood quickly dissolved as he remembered Jaskier knew nothing about Cirilla. </p><p>
  <em> Would Jaskier still like him if he knew?  </em>
</p><p>Geralt knew that dating a man was one thing but dating a father was another animal entirely. It came with far deeper ties and tangled strings. </p><p>Jaskier seemed to notice his shift in mood and connected it erroneously to their conversation. He deftly changed topics and started prattling on about the new music he was writing, tightening his grip on Geralt’s hand as if to tacitly provide his support. Geralt’s heart melted a little at the gesture, even if it was somewhat misfounded. </p><p>Geralt tried his best to ignore his lingering doubts about opening up to someone properly before they knew about his life, and instead he focused on actually paying attention to Jaskier’s words. Almost without meaning to at all, Geralt hand raised to Jaskier’s head and gently brushed the stray hair out of his eyes. Geralt fought off a blush as he lowered his hand back down and Jaskier quirked a smile at him, continuing to talk without pause. </p><p>The rest of breakfast passed relatively uneventfully until Geralt had run out of excuses to delay Jaskier any longer and he was forced to return to his post. Geralt grabbed his briefcase and stood up. Just as he turned to say goodbye to Jaskier, Jaskier leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Geralt’s cheek. </p><p>“Bye, Geralt, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jaskier said cheerfully as he began to walk back behind the counter. Geralt just stood in place, stunned. </p><p>Geralt blinked a few times, noted the paradigm shift his world had just undergone, and walked out of The Big Bean towards his firm. For the entire trip, his mind stayed firmly fixed on the feeling of Jaskier’s lips briefly brushing his cheek. </p><p>The moment Geralt walked into his shared office, Yennefer greeted him abruptly, “He’s a foppish bastard, but he’s harmless.”</p><p>Caught off guard, Geralt took a moment to shift his mind away from Jaskier and realize Yennefer was talking about Ciri’s music teacher. When it clicked, he replied, “Good, because Ciri could not stop rambling last night about how much she <em> loved </em> Mr. Pankratz. Apparently he told stories in between the actual music learning, and Ciri is convinced she wants to be a rock star now.”</p><p>Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “That man was definitely no rock star.”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “If I have to hear one more time about how ‘<em>Mr. Pankratz </em> does the voices in his stories, so why can’t <em> you </em> do the voices,’ I am going to snap.”</p><p>Yennefer laughed, “He did seem the theatrical type.” Yennefer paused and eyed Geralt wearily. “Careful, you sound almost jealous, Geralt.”</p><p>“I am not jealous. Just because he<em> tells stories the right way </em> and <em> has the most interesting job Ciri’s ever heard about </em> and <em> teaches her fascinating new skills</em>, does <em> not </em> mean I’m jealous. This isn’t a competition.“ Geralt sighed, “I’m just happy he works so well with Ciri. She really loved learning from him.”</p><p>Yennefer laughed breezily “I would almost consider setting you up with him but he’s probably in a relationship. He didn't even hit on me.”</p><p>Geralt glared. “Did you flirt with him, Yen?” Geralt knew what Yennefer’s flirting entailed and hoped she hadn't scared the poor man away. Ciri really did take a shine to him quickly.</p><p>Yennefer shrugs. “Perhaps a <em> little. </em>I had to make sure he wasn't the sort of music teacher who just sleeps with his student’s parents.”</p><p>“Are you sure he wasn't just cute?”</p><p>“Ugh,” Yennefer seemed disgusted with the idea. “Supremely not my type. Besides, I doubt you’re too bothered. I’m sure you’re not really looking for anything serious right now.”</p><p>Geralt considered for a moment. “He kissed me.”</p><p>Yennefer laughed. “Who? Mr. Pankratz?”</p><p>“No, Jaskier.”</p><p>Yennefer lifted her eyebrows and smiled, surprised. “Look at you go! You horndog.”</p><p>Geralt refused to blush at Yennefer’s teasing. “He kissed me on the cheek.”</p><p>Yennefer covered her eyes and dropped her head onto her desk, groaning. “Oh my god, is this Victorian England? He kissed you on the <em> cheek </em> and you look as if you’re about to pass out. By god, you’re really gone on this guy.</p><p>“Hopelessly.” Geralt smiled, if only to himself. </p><p>“Well, that settles it then. I’m going to have to text him.”</p><p>“Yen…”</p><p>“No, I have to. It’s my duty to you and your irrational love-soaked brain to double check to make sure this Jaskier guy isn’t bad news for you.”</p><p>Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at the word <em> love. </em> “Yennefer, do <em> not </em> scare him away. I won’t give you his number.”</p><p>Yennefer smiled in a manner typically reserved for when she was about to pull out an unexpected piece of evidence that tied an entire case together. “I don’t need you to. I memorized it when I grabbed your phone the first time.”</p><p>Geralt groaned at Yennefer’s triumphant tone and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “Just… go easy on him? Please?”</p><p>Yennefer didn’t grant him a response, electing instead to turn back to her desk and type furiously into her phone. </p><p>Geralt pulled out his own phone and looked over his texts with Jaskier. </p><p>
  <em> ah! i’ve got to go! triss is threatening me with bodily harm again! she hasn’t reached castration yet though so she can’t be too upset </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Better go. We wouldn’t want her to carry out that threat.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it would be a tragedy felt by all ;) </em>
</p><p>Geralt was amused by Jaskier’s cheeky reply and sent back one of his own. </p><p>
  <em> It would be. </em>
</p><p>Geralt locked his phone and prayed silently that Yennefer wouldn’t scare poor Jaskier off. After all, hopeless idiots ought to stick together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>once again, terribly sorry for the delay. Hopefully some idiots pining makes up for the lost time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Made a couple of edits in earlier chapters for plot related reasons. Ciri would have recognized Geralt mentioning Jaskier’s name from when she met him as her neighbor, so now Jaskier introduces himself as her new neighbor not as Jaskier. My bad :/ sorry for any confusion!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier spent the rest of the morning anxiously thinking and rethinking the kiss. <em> Had he gone too far? Did he make Geralt uncomfortable? Oh god, what if he had read the situation wrong? What if he ruined everything and Geralt would never have breakfast with him ever again??! </em></p><p>Thankfully, a message notification from his phone saved him from his own spiraling vortex of self doubt. </p><p>
  <em> It would be. </em>
</p><p>Geralt’s short but supportive message lifted Jaskier’s heart.<em> Looked like he didn’t fuck things up at all! </em> Jaskier was about to put his phone away when another message from an unknown number dinged his phone.</p><p>
  <em> My name is Yennefer, I already know who you are. If you break Geralt’s heart, I will personally break every bone in your body and make you wish you were never born. Is that clear? </em>
</p><p>Jaskier gulped, quickly typing out his response. </p><p>
  <em> Perfectly! </em>
</p><p>Another message was quick to come in. </p><p>
  <em> Good. With that out of the way, I demand you tell me how you get Geralt to tell you what his hmms mean. He says that you always understand them but then refuses to explain what they mean himself.  </em>
</p><p>Jaskier laughed in disbelief as he hastily saved Yennefer’s contact information. She seemed to be an important person to know. </p><p>After replying a drawn out text rife with far too many colorful emojis and dramatic hyperboles, Jaskier slipped his phone back into his pocket and got back to work.</p><p>Jaskier finished up his shift, hanging up his apron and shooting a quick goodbye to Triss. He whisked out the door and headed home. Jaskier whistled a soft tone as he walked, daydreaming about nothing, everything, and all the delightful matters in between. Caught up in his preoccupations, Jaskier nearly walked straight past his building and had to double back. </p><p>Walking out of the elevator onto his floor, Jaskier was surprised to see someone at the door across from him. As Jaskier got closer, he realized he recognized the small figure. </p><p>“Oh! Cirilla!”</p><p>Ciri whipped around quickly and stiffened. “Ciri,” she corrected. </p><p>“Right, sorry. Hello, Ciri!”</p><p>Ciri narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I...er, live here?”</p><p>Ciri burst into a wide smile and began to nearly jump up and down in excitement. “I knew it! I knew I recognized you but then you didn’t say anything and I thought I was going crazy, but I was right!” At Jaskier’s confused look, Ciri rushed to clarify, “We met the day you moved in. You introduced yourself as the new tennent, and I distinctly remember thinking that you were weird.”</p><p>Jaskier groaned. “Sorry, that was the exact opposite of what I was going for.” He lifted his head, tilting it as he looked beyond Ciri at the door across from his. “You live here?”</p><p>Ciri nodded. </p><p>“Huh, crazy coincidence I guess.”</p><p>A brief moment of silence passed as Jaskier tried to figure out how to end a conversation with a 10 year old. Ciri interrupted his thoughts, “Are you married?”</p><p>Jaskier froze, blinking wildly. “No?” </p><p>“And are you a fan of Lady Gaga?”</p><p>“I—um, yes. I am.”</p><p>Seemly satisfied, Ciri nodded succinctly and unlocked her door, entering swiftly and with no further words. </p><p>Jaskier stood in front of his door, confused as to what had just occurred.<em> I guess that's how you end a conversation.  </em></p><p>Unlocking his door and entering his apartment, Jaskier tried to shake the strange feeling the encounter had left him with. He was a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t recognised Ciri at their lesson. To be fair to himself, he really hadn’t been looking closely during their first meeting since he was so preoccupied with trying not to make a fool of himself. <em> And apparently failing majorly.  </em></p><p>
  <em> An unusual set of questions for a young girl to ask him, but perhaps she was just interested in his taste in music? He was her music teacher afterall; it wasn’t that weird to be curious.  </em>
</p><p>Confident in his explanation of the situation, Jaskier pushed away thoughts of the conversation and entered his tiny kitchen, scrounging around for the makings of a late lunch. </p><p>Once Jaskier finished eating, he migrated into his bedroom to start working on his music. He had nearly finished up the song that was entirely about Geralt but had just a few lyrics that were eluding his grasp. </p><p>The ring of Jaskier’s phone pulled up out of his deep concentration and Jaskier lunged towards his phone. Admittedly, Geralt had never called him before but <em> anything was possible! </em> </p><p>Upon lifting his phone, Jaskier realized it was in fact Priscilla calling him. Jaskier grinned as he picked up.</p><p>“Darling, you’re never going to believe this. This very morning on this very day, the man who owns my heart—nay! my soul—nay! <em> my very being! </em> My light, my love, my everything, that very man—”</p><p>“Spit it out!”</p><p>“I kissed him on the cheek and I think he was okay with it!” Jaskier rushed on, scarcely pausing to take a breath, “Well, I hope he liked it, but I think at the very least he isn't offended and doesn’t wanna kill me. But his very scary best friend Yennefer might want to. But I also don’t think she will because we sort of got into a dramatic insult-off which I’m almost completely, near entirely sure is a joke, but I can't be too careful so—”</p><p>“I’m glad you're happy, Jaskier,” Priscilla paused, “but I'm almost surprised you've been so chaste. I’d almost have expected you to have fucked him and be halfway out of love by now.”</p><p>Jaskier huffed, “This time it’s different.”</p><p>Priscilla sighed, “It always is, isn’t it. Anyway, that's too bad. I was just about to give you Mr. Rivia’s number, maybe try to set you up, but seeing as you are<em> so incredibly in love, </em>I guess I shouldn’t even suggest it.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Jaskier said, deadly serious.</p><p>“That’s as good of a segue as any since my <em> original intention </em> for this call was to ask how the lesson went. Ciri seemed happy today, gushing about <em> Mr. Pancratz </em> to anyone who would listen.”</p><p>Jaskier blushed. “Yes, I guess I did prattle on about the old band for a bit too long. I think the lesson went great. Ciri is a wonderful child and a delight to teach. Did you know she’s my neighbor? Funny how these little coincidences pop up. It’s a small world I guess.”</p><p>“So her father lives right there?”</p><p>“Pris…”</p><p>She laughs. “Right, right, I'll lay off it. I just think someone stable would be good for you—maybe balance you out a bit.”</p><p>Jaskier grumbled, “I am stable.”</p><p>“What's the last meal you had?”</p><p>“I—” Jaskier deflated. “Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and refried beans.”</p><p>Priscilla’s silence was deafening.</p><p>“Okay, fine! Maybe I have some growing up to do, but this setting me up business has to stop!”</p><p>“‘Course, Jask. You know I’m only joking, right?”</p><p>“Hmm? What? Hmm?<em> I </em> was deadly serious about the beans. Pythagoras would be horrified.”</p><p>Priscilla just laughed. “Lovely as it is to catch up, I have a board meeting in five minutes and I am <em> so not prepared </em>.”</p><p>“Better leave you to it then. See you soon!”</p><p>“Bye, Jask!” Jaskier looked around his empty apartment. <em> Maybe he was missing a little stability? </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're in the endgame now, I swear.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic is now finished (mostly)! There are two more chapters after this one, and I'll probably put one up per day. Thank you so much for everyone who stuck with me through this. I love y'all and you're the reason I kept at it. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt had wandered over to Yennefer’s desk and was currently peering over her shoulder to read her text conversation with Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was expecting a battle of wits, Jaskier, but you appear to be unarmed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your mom suck me good and hard thru my jorts</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You win this round. I just learned that the “pupil” is a muscle and that fact about your eyes dilating when you see someone you like actually means that you’re subconsciously and uncontrollably flexing at your crushes whenever you’re seeing them</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>kind of like a butthole!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He would truly never understand their relationship. “You seem to be… getting along?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer idly flipped her hair behind her shoulder as she replied, eyes never leaving the screen as she typed out her response. “He’s a complete and utter idiot, but… charming in the way a drooling puppy is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt furrowed his eyebrows. “Thanks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer nodded and returned to work. Geralt tried to focus on his casework as the rest of the day flew by, but he couldn’t help but worry about Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer seemed to like him well enough, but Ciri had never even met him. Not to mention, Geralt wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell her something like that. What if Ciri got all comfortable with Jaskier and then it didn’t work out? It seemed like too messy of a situation for someone like Geralt who tried desperately to stick with the simple things in life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Geralt, I can hear your worrying from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerlt frowned. “I wasn't saying anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Yennefer paused and pursed her lips. One of her favorite things about Geralt back in the day was that he never demanded of her any vulnerability. She used to think that was a virtue. Yennefer cast aside her regrets, deciding to tackle this the best way she knew how: as bluntly as Geralt’s weird sword collection. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, those were sharp.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yennefer made a note to fix this analogy at a later point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this about Jaskier?” she asked, careful to make her voice as non-judgemental as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grunted. It felt like an affirmative grunt, so she continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, look at our most recent texts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stood up and walked over to Yennefer’s desk, peering at her cell phone. He saw Yennefer’s message first.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you hurt Geralt, I will kill you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>if i hurt geralt, i'll kill myself</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>not if I kill you first.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed, “Pleasure to watch you two interact as always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer rolled her eyes, “Geralt, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> about you, really cares. I know you’re up there twisting up every interaction trying to find some evidence that he secretly hates you and this is all going to fall apart, but I’m telling you,” she placed her hand on his arm, “you’re allowed to be happy, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m…” Geralt grimaced, struggling with his words. Yenefer offered a very unpracticed look of sympathy. It scared Geralt a bit. “I’m… horny, but you know, for feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep your voice down! Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed. This whole thing felt a bit like approaching a startled deer. She focused on minimizing the condescension in her tone, reminding herself that this really was quite difficult for Geralt. “You don’t have to stop yourself from loving him, Geralt. He likes you back, hell, maybe he even loves you. But you’re never going to find out if you let yourself push him away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to catch Geralt’s eyes, but he glanced off to the side, eyebrows furrowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least he’s thinking about it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yennefer thought cynically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t throw away this rare shot at happiness.” With Yennefer’s sentiment quota reached for the day, she happily followed up that statement with: “Now get back to your desk or Vesemir will have your head. I’m not covering for you this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt seemed relieved for the shift away from all that talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>feelings</span>
  </em>
  <span> and slunk back to his desk. By the time </span>
  <em>
    <span>6:00pm</span>
  </em>
  <span> rolled around, Geralt didn’t feel like he had gotten any further with the Jaskier issue, but at least he had been able to make some progress with his work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yennefer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up from her desk. “Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m heading out now. I can drop Ciri off for her lesson.” He paused. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt rushed to clarify, “For last week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved him off. “Of course, of course. Just know I did it for the girl, not for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just hummed and turned to leave the office. He listened to the fading clicks of Yennefer’s acrylic nails against her keyboard as he walked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Geralt reached home, the sun was just beginning to set behind the skyscrapers and high-rise apartments. He enters and exits the elevator without much thought, and pulls out his keys as he walks up to the apartment. He sees a few posters plastered up against his neighbors door in a manner Geralt is sure violates the lease policy. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t take them much time to get acquainted,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt thought dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt pushed open his door and called out, “Ciri?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri burst out of her room and marched up to Geralt, hands on her hips like she meant business. Geralt, amused, lifted his eyebrow and asked, “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a new neighbor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded. “We do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should talk to him.” Ciri’s voice took on an almost blasé tone, betrayed only by her nervous fidgeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I do that?” Geralt furrowed his eyebrows, genuinely confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Adults seem to do that sort of thing when they're looking for </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking fo—Ciri, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how we were discussing how you might be happier if you met someone like Yennefer but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer</span>
  </em>
  <span> obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, not that I don't appreciate discussing this with you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my daughter,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but you’re ten. I don't think this is quite the topic—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri continued undeterred, “And I know you met someone named Jaskier but you never talk about him anymore, so I guess that means he isn’t going to be your </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I just want you to be happy and Aunt Yen says that sometimes you look lonely and even though I know you love me, I still want you to have someone and Mr. Pancratz is so close and listens to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lady Gaga</span>
  </em>
  <span> so I thought maybe—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt blinked wildly over the course of Ciri’s little ramble and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I still talk to Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri froze. “Oh. In that case, forget about all that.” She blushed fiercely. “So, what’s for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so fast, young lady, what was the rest of that? Yen says I look lonely? And what’s Mr. Pancratz and Lady Gaga have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri’s face flushed a brighter shade of red as she stammered, “Well, you know. I wanted to know if Mr. Pancratz was, um” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to know if he was gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked lonely and I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> discovered this about you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do not go around </span>
  <em>
    <span>assuming</span>
  </em>
  <span> things about people based on stereotypes! It’s rude to Mr. Pancratz to take one fact about him and try to guess at other things in his life based on that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Ciri mumbled, “sorry, Dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt softened, “It’s alright, little one, just keep it in mind for next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri’s face scrunched up adorably. “Right, for the next time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just laughed and turned to the kitchen. “Pasta sound alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as it’s done in time for my lesson!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded amicably. “Of course. You can work on some more homework until then. Should be ready in about twenty minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good!” Ciri raced back into her room just as Geralt flicked on the stove and began to boil some water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The buzzing of his phone quickly interrupted Geralt’s cooking. He pulled out his phone to check his messages. There was a new one from Jaskier that made his face split into a reluctant grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>disaster has struck!!! Someone (not naming names) went to heat up a croissant and accidentally left it in there for too long (absolutely understandable if you ask me) and it began to smoke just a little (not even real flames!) anyway, long story short the sprinklers went off and the fire department is here :(</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckled fondly and shot back a quick reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you alright?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no!!!! my dignity is irreparably damaged! In shambles!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What dignity? ;-D</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am in the greatest anguish both from that INEXCUSABLE affront to my honor (haha, i know ‘what honor?’) and that appalling use of an emoticon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The face needs to breathe, Jaskier. I have to include his nose.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>:(</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*:-(</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you’re ridiculous</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s face flushed at the fact that he could hear Jaskier’s warm fondness through the message. Remembering the notification, Geralt checked his other newest message from Mrs. Callonetta.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello, Mr. Rivia. I hope you are well! I know Ciri expects to have another music lesson tonight, but Mr. Pancratz unfortunately won’t be able to make it to the school in time for the lesson. Would you like to reschedule it or, if you have a piano at home, Mr. Pancratz could hold the lesson there? As I understand it, that may be closer for him. Let me know, thanks!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt took a moment to consider. They did indeed have a piano in their apartment, and Ciri had been excitedly practicing in all of her spare time. Geralt knew she had really been looking forward to this lesson and would hate to have to tell her that it was delayed. But at the same time, Geralt loathed the idea of letting a practical stranger into their home. In the end, Yennefer’s assurances of Mr. Pancratz’s character convinced him. He trusted her assessment wholeheartedly. He composed a message back to Mrs. Callonetta, read it over once, and sent it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell Mr. Pancratz he can come over for the lesson. We have a piano. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sent off his address as well and returned to preparing dinner, hoping this wasn’t a mistake. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a quick penultimate chapter! the final chapter is done and will be up tomorrow!! i love writing jaskier so much, his thoughts are disarmingly fun. Enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jaskier was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that’s not all the way true. His day had started out marvelous as always with a delightful visit from The Big Bean’s favorite customer (or maybe just Jaskier’s). But as soon as Geralt had left, he seemed to have taken all of fortune’s favor with him. Valdo had yelled at him for taking too long of a lunch break, Triss had called in sick at the last minute so Jaskier had twice the amount of work as usual, and a button had fallen off of Jaskier’s favorite shirt! Honestly, it was inevitable something else was going to go wrong, so it wasn’t Jaskier’s fault in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightest</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier maintained this disposition right up until the third sprinkler turned on and he could hear the distant sounds of an NYC fire truck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> his fault. He truly hadn’t meant to leave the croissant in the toaster oven for that long, but—to be perfectly fair—he had customers to serve! Valdo had always said that the customers were the first priority, so if anything it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault! Who was Jaskier to ignore loyal customers for something so trivial as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning pastry?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> These people were putting their hard-earned money into this business! They didn’t deserve that sort of second rate treatment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier thought all of this glumly from outside The Big Bean’s main entrance. Along with a small crowd of passerbyers, he was stuck on the sidewalk watching firemen enter the small cafe. Jaskier was almost tempted to tell them not to bother—he knew there wasn’t a real flame, just some smoke—but he restrained himself. He really didn't need to get himself into even more trouble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Jaskier had his phone in his pocket so he could delightfully ignore the proceedings. The first thing he did was text Priscilla that he might be late to Ciri’s lesson, if not miss it altogether. There was no way he could make it back to his apartment then to the school in time, especially if this whole fire business dragged out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated for a moment. Ever since he found out Ciri lived next door, he had been toying with the idea of asking to move the lessons closer—to her apartment perhaps. He hadn’t been sure how to ask, but maybe this could be the perfect chance. Biting his lip, Jaskier added that he’d be willing to hold the lesson at Mr. Rivia’s home, if they had a piano. Priscilla seemed alright with it and said she would text him to ask. Content that it was dealt with, Jaskier suppressed a smile as he pulled open his messages with Geralt, composing a truly dramatic rendition of his day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the fire department had cleared the building for reentry and Jaskier could grab all of his things to flee from Valdo’s ire, he had about fifteen minutes to run home, pick up all his lesson materials, and show up at Ciri’s door. Jaskier shivered as a burst of wind blew past the broken button on his shirt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And maybe change too,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he amended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Jaskier barely had time to unlock his door and fling all manner of clothing items around looking for Ciri’s sheet music. He finally found it shoved under some offensively colored shorts (</span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe neon orange is my color!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier, just drunk enough for the purchase, had thought when he had bought them. Sober Jaskier found out it was, in fact, not his color. It was no one's). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With two minutes until he would be indecently late, Jaskier bolted through his apartment, flew out the door, reached the neighboring door, realized he forgot to lock his apartment, made his way back over, locked his door, and clamored back to the other entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier heaved a deep breath, half anxious for this encounter and half genuinely out of breath from the comical back and forth. He rang the doorbell, wincing as he frantically tried to smooth down his messy hair into something halfway decent. </span>
  <span>Just as the door becan to crack open. Jaskier remembered the busted button. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, here goes the worst first impression of my life. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Longest chapter of them all because I just didn't want to let this pair go. Thank you so much for all the kind words along the way &lt;3 i would never have been able to finish this without you all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s brain short circuited for a moment as he desperately tried to equate his expectations with the view of Jaskier standing frozen in his doorway. He had just opened his door and was currently blinking rapidly, trying to wrap his mind around the sight of Jaskier at his door looking adorably ruffled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is his shirt unbuttoned lower than usual</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Geralt thought absent-mindedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt had just spent the last half hour alternating between waiting by the door for Mr. Pancratz and double-checking that he had sent the right address, silently cursing the musician for his tardiness. When the doorbell rang, Geralt waited a tense two beats before throwing the door open, ready to demand answers as to why he was so late. But instead he found himself staring helplessly at Jaskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier seemed to be stuck in the same sort of trance. “Geralt? Hello… delighted to see you as always.” His voice trailed off as he peeked over Geralt’s shoulder. “I’m looking for Mr. Rivia?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had Jaskier read this whole situation wrong? Was Geralt actually married to Mr. Rivia and was gleefully crushing Jaskier’s heart beneath his cruel steel boot only to—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s voice didn’t lose an ounce of its characteristically gruff quality. “That’s me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jaskier coughed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt is… Mr. Rivia? That didn’t seem right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier’s mind raced with a thousand questions, but his mouth refused to give voice to a single one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt beat him to it. “Mr. Pancratz, I assume?” Geralt was trying not to let it show how much his world had just tilted on its axis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, that’s me.” Jaskier bent down for an over-flourished bow but sort of gave up halfway, realizing it was a bit ridiculous. In the end that left him sort of swooping down to dick level, pausing for an eyeful, then immediately righting himself back up, face fully flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looks good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt thought nonsensically as he raised an unamused eyebrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do I… let him in?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt hadn’t remembered feeling this unsure of himself in a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I come in?” Jaskier choked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded, internally relieved, and moved over to let Jaskier past him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier tried not to shiver as he brushed past Geralt’s sturdy figure. He found himself looking around the apartment. It looked comfortably lived in—certainly neater than Jaskier’s, even though he had only just moved in. Priscilla’s words floated into his mind, and he hastily pushed them away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turned back to face Geralt who was leaning comfortably against the kitchen counter, looking for all the world like he couldn’t be more at ease. Jaskier struggled to meet his gaze, electing instead to let his eyes dart around the room to take in the kitchen space. He eventually broke the silence. “You… have a daughter?” Jasker seemed to be testing out the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier figited anxiously, wishing for all the world he could read Geralt’s thoughts. He finally met Geralt’s eyes, finding them alight with mirth. Jaskier’s eyes widened at the realization. “You’re mocking me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” Geralt smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s heart swooped, his nerves flooding with relief. “Oh, shoo, none of this two-syllable business. As much as you may hide it, I know you are perfectly capable of stringing together a full sentence and, now that I think about it, darling Ciri is </span>
  <em>
    <span>remarkably</span>
  </em>
  <span> well adjusted for having a mountain as a father considering—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier paused </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> because he found himself swept up into a great hug with Geralt’s strong arms wrapped tightly around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn’t know what had come over him, but the thought of Jaskier so readily accepting that Geralt and Ciri were a package deal had him swept up in a wave of affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier squeaked and leaned into him. His tone softened considerably. “Oh, you big lug. You didn’t need to go and </span>
  <em>
    <span>prove</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were a mountain of a man.”</span>
</p><p><span>Geralt froze and began to pull away.</span> <span>He had been delighted to hear Jaskier’s quick approval of Geralt as Ciri’s father but </span><em><span>maybe he moved too quickly and Jaskier actually hated the idea.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>“No!” Jaskier’s grip tightened. “You hugged first! No take-backsies! You’re stuck with me now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grinned and carefully brought his arms back up, placing them on Jaskier’s back and letting his head rest atop Jaskier’s. Yennefer’s advice to </span>
  <em>
    <span>let himself be happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> briefly occurred to him, but he was too busy memorizing the way Jaskier fit in his arms to really take note.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice broke through the calm haze that had descended upon Geralt’s mind. “Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt pulled away reluctantly and flicked his gaze wildly between Ciri, who was raising one eyebrow in a look that perfectly matched her father’s, and Jaskier, who looked like a deer in headlights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you hugging Mr. Pancratz? I thought you were still talking to Jaskier.” Her voice oozed suspicion as she narrowed her eyes at the pair who were still frozen in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier recovered the quickest, bounding over to Ciri and holding his hand out for a handshake. “Julian Alfred Pancratz, also known to close associates as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri’s eyes lit up. “You’re Jaskier!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri grinned and took his hand, wiggling it up and down. “You can be his </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier looked at Geralt, his confusion clear on his face. Geralt shot him a look that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll explain later</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Jaskier dropped it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, if you’re ready for your lesson, you two should get started. After all,” Geralt shot an accusatory look at Jaskier, “you’ve already got a late start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wilted a little under his glare. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Geraaaaalt,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> my place of business almost burned to the ground today!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Irrelevant! I am allowed—nay!—I </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a little late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri giggled, and Jaskier looked unimaginably proud that his theatrics paid off. Geralt’s heart warmed at the interaction, and bits of his anxieties began to melt away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri grabbed Jaskier’s hand and tugged him along to where their piano was housed in an out of the way corner of their apartment. They chatted amicably amongst themselves as Ciri cheerfully updated Jaskier on everything she had been practicing, and Jaskier commended her for the dedication. She preened a bit, clearly pleased her effort hadn’t been for naught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt busied himself cleaning up dinner in the kitchen and keeping an ear out for Ciri and Jaskier. The whole lesson long he heard Jaskier’s fingers dancing across the keys followed by Ciri’s admittedly clumsier attempts, all the while interspersed with Jaskier’s stories and the pair of them laughing. The fond feeling that had been manifesting in Geralt’s chest ever since he had seen Jaskier gracing his doorstep swelled as he listened to the attentive care Jaskier employed in his every dealing with Ciri and the clear adoration she felt towards him as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A playful hour passed like that, the atmosphere light despite the revelations that had occurred. Geralt was immensely grateful for Jaskier’s smooth assimilation into his life. For the first time in a long time, Geralt felt like the pieces of his life were ready to fall into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier startled him out of his thoughts as he appeared in front of him in the kitchen. “Geralt? The lesson is over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt blinked a few times, putting down the towel he had been drying dishes with. “Where’s Ciri?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She went to her room after the lesson.” Jaskier tilted his head. “I think she said she had some homework to catch up on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded and stood up. “Well, Jaskier. May I accompany you home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn’t expect the nervous flush that appeared across Jaskier’s face. Geralt immediately worried he had misstepped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier quickly cut him off, still looking ashamed. “No! No misstepping here! I just… right well, about that, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I swear I’m not stalking you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt narrowed his eyes and motioned for him to elaborate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sort of your neighbor,” Jaskier blurted out. This was a realization Jaskier had reached almost immediately after the initial revelation thanks in part to the three act daydream about domestic bliss with Geralt that had slam dunked his conscience somewhere in the precious seconds he spent wrapped in Geralt’s embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s surprised expression seemed to indicate he hadn’t made the same leap of logic. With Geralt’s eyes widened so comically, Jaskier couldn’t but affectionately muse that sometimes Geralt really did resemble a startled cat. Jaskier tried desperately not to let his amusement show. He only failed a little bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shifted his weight, uneasy. “You… live next door?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt considered this new fact and seemed to settle something within himself. “Then I ask again, may I accompany you home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s face heated. “You most certainly can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri?” Geralt shouted down the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Ciri replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going next door. Be back soon. Don’t open the door to anyone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t forget your keys next time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckled and shook his head, grabbing his keys as he turned back to Jaskier. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded and slipped his hand into Geralt’s, valiantly refraining from any comments about the fetching blush that blossomed across Geralt’s face in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair of them slipped into Jaskier’s apartment, and Geralt took a moment to look around. Jaskier pulled away from him to begin nervously throwing his various possessions on top of and into other belongings in an effort to seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a put-together adult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess right now.” Jaskier paused and scowled before qualifying, “I guess that unfairly implies it's not always like this, and I should make an effort not to lie like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind.” This time it was Geralt’s turn to hesitate. “Well, if I’m being honest…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier returned to Geralt’s side and patted his shoulder. “I guess I’ll just have to keep you around to keep me in check.” He followed up the statement with a quick wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled at his familiar antics. “I guess you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier beamed and pulled Geralt over to his couch. “Why don’t I grab us a couple of drinks and we can chat a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Geralt walked over to Jaskier’s richly dyed vermilion couch and situated himself comfortably. Jaskier returned from his kitchen with a bottle and froze at the sight of Geralt making himself at home in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> space. His heart stuttered for a moment before jump-starting at double speed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier raised his bottle-bearing arm. “I got wine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt made space for him on the couch and took a glass from him. Conversation started slow, but eventually they picked up right where their morning chat had ended—what felt like ages ago. Their conversation reached a point where Geralt pulled out his phone to show Jaskier Ciri’s most recent trip to the Bronx Zoo with Geralt and Yennefer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yennefer?! How is she exactly what I pictured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grunted. “Because you met her, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very rude! You met Priscilla at every parent-teacher conference and you didn’t notice shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Priscilla?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Callonetta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s voice took on a pitch Jaskier had scarcely ever heard from him before. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mrs. Callonetta is your best friend Pris?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The ‘sweetest person you’ve ever met’? She's terrifying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier frowned. “She was only supposed to scare the bad parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt groaned. “She wouldn’t stop pestering me about Ciri’s vegetable intake. How was I supposed to know she was throwing away her green beans at lunch! I’m not in the cafeteria!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked up at Jaskier, surprised to see his doting look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier just continued grinning at Geralt, resting his head against him. “It's cute to hear you talk about Ciri. It’s clear you love her dearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” said Geralt solemnly, “more than anything in this world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shuffled closer. “I’m glad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt pulled back and looked Jaskier in the eyes. “You really don't mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really like you, Geralt. Nothing’s going to change that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s heart warmed at the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, it's not an arduous task to take second place for the sake of someone like Ciri. She's a delightful child.” Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “I am second place, right? Because Yennefer is great and all but I really don't think my heart could handle it if—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt silenced him with a kiss and Jaskier melted into him. When Geralt pulled away, Jaskier fluttered his eyes open to the sight of Geralt looking besotted at him. “Of course you are, Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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